


The Nap Doctor

by Lillyjk



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Napping, magic blankets, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillyjk/pseuds/Lillyjk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Either way Phil just wants Barton to shut up about the naps, already. “Okay,” he says. “Tomorrow at my place.”</p>
<p>Barton looks wide eyed and disbelieving and then he bolts for the door of Phil's office like he's afraid Phil will change his mind if he lingers. Which, Phil admits, is probably true.</p>
<p>That's how he ends up with Barton invading his apartment at approximately 1:30 on Saturday afternoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nap Doctor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AdamantSteve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/gifts).



> For my dear AdamantSteve who said: With Jeremy Renner talking about how much he loves to nap, I kinda want to read a fic where Clint helps other people to nap. Like he helps Thor set up a hammock. Teaches Steve the wonders of internet porn for getting you to sleep… etc 
> 
> His toughest client: Phil Coulson <3

Phil thinks it's ridiculous, as far as he's concerned the entire concept of napping is something that should have been left behind in preschool. Barton is annoyingly persistent about it though. He's inordinately proud that's he's successfully gotten Thor on the napping train and even super soldier Steve who can function on no sleep at all has adopted the Barton nap method. Phil's not sure exactly what that entails, but Steve flushed bright red when Tony teased him about it so he's sure it's nothing good.

 

Barton broaches the subject for about the fortieth time on Friday afternoon and Phil snaps, “Why would I want to sleep during daylight, Barton?”

 

“It's really good for your stress level, Sir.” Barton says a little too innocently.

 

Phil would bet his best suit that the little fucker had been in the vents when Fury threatened to put Phil on mandatory leave if he didn't come back on Monday completely, “Chilled the fuck out, Cheese, and I mean it, goddammit.”

 

Either way Phil just wants Barton to shut up about the naps, already. “Okay,” he says. “Tomorrow at my place.”

 

Barton looks wide eyed and disbelieving and then he bolts for the door of Phil's office like he's afraid Phil will change his mind if he lingers. Which, Phil admits, is probably true.

 

That's how he ends up with Barton invading his apartment at approximately 1:30 on Saturday afternoon. Phil had been working on paperwork and he'd almost but not quite forgotten the nap issue when Barton rang his doorbell.

 

Barton seemed a little too excited by the whole thing. He had a bag over one shoulder and seemed more prepared for nap time than most of Avengers' missions. He gives Phil a wide smile and then sort of circles around him giving him an appraising look before standing back and pulling something fuzzy and purple out of his bag.

 

Phil scowls. “What's that?”

 

“Magic blanket, Sir.” Barton says, like that makes all the sense in the world. He glances down at his watch. “I'm going to do a little prep work if you want to wrap up what you're doing. Don't mind me.”

 

Phil narrows his eyes but does as Barton says, spending the next few minutes finishing up a couple of mission reports. Barton's been in his apartment dozens of times, stayed over plenty, if he wants to nose around to do nap “prep work” more power to him.

 

By the time Phil gets done, Barton is waiting for him, a small pile of Phil's own clothes laid out on the kitchen bar. “What's this?” Phil asks.

 

“Nap clothes.” Barton says, and the “duh” is definitely implied. “You can't nap in jeans, Sir.” He pushes the clothes toward Phil, a soft tshirt and some threadbare sleep pants that have worn shiny and thin at the knees. “Although,” Barton's voice goes low, “the jeans are a good look on you.” He pauses a beat. “Sir.”

 

Phil snatches the clothes up and retreats to the bathroom. Barton's doing that thing, that flirty thing that makes Phil's heart beat a little too fast. He's just closing the door when Barton adds. “The glasses are a good look too, Phil.”

 

Phil doesn't respond, just pulls the door shut and changes quickly. How the hell did he let himself get talked into this again?

 

When he comes out of the bathroom, Barton's nowhere to be seen so Phil does the logical thing and heads to the bedroom.

 

Barton has raided the guest bedroom and has all the pillows piled up on Phil's bed along with the regular pillows in a big pillow nest. The fuzzy purple blanket is spread over the top. Seeing Barton's blanket on his bed makes something clench in the pit of Phil's stomach. He walks over to the edge of the bed and reaches his fingers out.

 

The blanket is maybe the softest thing he's ever felt.

 

He's barely aware of Barton moving around in the room behind him, drawing the blinds downs and turning on talk radio so low that it's nothing but an indistinct murmur.

 

He's not sure how long he stands there, his fingers stroking over the soft material but then Barton is there beside him, bumping his shoulder with his own.

 

“Works better if you actually get in the bed, Sir.”

 

Phil scowls at him, he's a grown ass man, thank you very much. He's not intimidated by the idea of a nap. He pulls the blanket back and climbs into the middle of the nest of pillows trying to arrange himself into the bed and tuck the blanket around him. It feels weird. Even with the blinds drawn, and the soothing background radio noises, Phil feels wired and wide awake. He glares at Barton. “Happy now?”

 

Barton just grins at him and pulls his own tshirt over his head, exposing way too much golden skin.

 

Phil sits straight up in the bed, clutching the purple blanket to his chest like a frightened virgin, “What the hell, Barton?” His voice goes up a full octave over the course of four words.

 

Barton just keeps smiling, even though his hands are working his jeans open and pushing them down to expose an indecently tight pair of gray boxer briefs. “Told you Sir, can't nap in jeans.” He pulls the blanket away from Phil and puts one knee on the bed.

 

“You're a difficult case. This is going to call for cuddling.” He crawls in the bed, completely ignoring Phil's protests. He slips one muscular arm around Phil's back and pulls him back into the nest of pillows, angling him so that Phil's head is resting on his shoulder. “Don't worry, Sir. I'll talk you through it.”

 

 


End file.
